Hunger
by IckleSickle
Summary: 15-year-old Severus Snape is hungry for the palest flesh. Pain and suffering, angsty and poetic. SS/RL, hints at JP/RL, SB/RL. Not exactly noncon but be warned. Written years ago, now translated and published.


Severus POV

Potions. This is where I usually shine; in the middle of gloomy, smoky tendrils from cauldrons. Powerful smells and flashes of light, sounds. This is where I shine...

Now I'm finding it hard to concentrate. I can't find the strength to force my eyes to my cauldron, which I know to be sizzling in front of me as always.

Instead, a shivering figure in the back of the room will work as my pastime. Remus Lupin shines through all classes. Quiet, intelligent, beautiful boy in the middle of a clamoring gang. Here, just like me, he is different.

I watch his movements. Usually his pale, narrow fingers move quickly and elegantly, you notice that if you pause even for a moment to look at him. How those fingers make a quill dance, how they move to elaborate his words, always confident, beautiful and silent. Powerful. Here, in the midst of sounds and cauldron smoke, it looks like the dancer's legs have been broken.

Remus Lupin. In everything else he's always confident, always beautiful, always quiet. Pale and narrow all the way through. Like a fallen angel with blood on his perfect face. His face...

Only in here is he something else too. I can see his body shivering, although there's a big blaze in the fireplace right behind him. Resin-yellow eyes follow the text on the blackboard with desperate speed, like a rabbit trying to outrun it's hunter. Then he lowers his gaze and grabs one of the bottles that are lined on the edges of the school desks. I watch tremoring hands bring the bottle in front of his face, his eyes measuring the contents like an opponent. Slowly he unscrews the bottle and immediately drops on the table. It's almost over the edge when a tanned, steady hand catches it. The clear liquid from the bottle stains the wooden surface of the desk.

Sirius Black leans closer to his friend and I see worry on the usually careless face. I feel like spitting at him. Sirius Black, from an upperclass family. He shines everywhere: in the eyes of girls, friends and teachers. Sirius Black, black hair, black eyes, black name. Only Remus, beautiful, little Remus seems to look at him like a person. To others he's a crush, the best of friends or a star student. But when he looks at small, pale Remus, even he has to admit that he is not a star, nor is he the moon. He is only human, and he will stay that way.

Remus buries his face in his hands which are trembling even more now and Sirius' hand looks filthy falling next to his delicate neck. Black says something and the angel shakes his head. The star rises and walks to face the professor's steely gaze. Many lift their heads and follow him with their eyes, and in a flash he's no longer human. My eyes stay with Remus, who slowly reveals his face from behind the hands and packs his bag with the assintance of James Potter. At the same time the teacher nods at Black and sends Potter to walk his friend to get some rest. I watch the small grateful glint in the amber eyes as Sirius takes his place.

I follow Lupin's graceful steps to the door, and through it, before I busy myself with bottling my finished potion.

I'm hungry, and nothing will satisfy me but the palest flesh.

Remus POV

With painfogged eyes you can see the world too clearly. In bruised lungs the most delicate of scents turn into choking ash, torn skin is burned by the lightest of winds. I'm dying, like everybody is. But I feel it, with my every cell, every passing moment, unlike anyone else.

The whole world changes and crumbles into the twilight. Feels like my skin is shed to the shadows and my bones are drawn coal black through the flesh. How can anyone living feel death? How can anyone living walk side by side with it, overlapping and interwined with when birth and life are coarsing through veins?

The shadows strike my face stronger by every passing corner. I won't let them scare my 15-year-old-self. I just lazily think I'm a wolf without the moon, and chuckle. Something else than the moon is drawing me tonight. Something else is walking me forward through the dead hallways; a new, overpowering scent is drawing me in, and I don't see a reason not to follow. I've smelled enough to know that this scent isn't pure evil. Although it isn't quite innocent either; I can smell lust and excruciating hunger that is matched only by my own. My empty stomach screams for fullfilment and I'm too tired or weak or stupid to see the dangers in my night time hunt. So I just walk, and feel the scent growing stronger, growing stronger than my own and filling my senses. It spreads through me even before I see him.

The colour of the shadows mingling with his hair the boy is partly sitting, partly laying near the door. The door is almost closed but I can see him, and the scent floods through. _Hunger._

The sight of him somehow shakes me; I'm human enough to need the visual even though the smell told me everything and than some. He seems to be convulsing with empty pleasure as he touches himself. The fragile-looking fingers of his right hand slide up and down his moist member, and I can smell the sweat of the palm mixing with semen. I shudder, half from human disgust and half from animal lust. He stops and raises his gaze; his dark eyes are coloured with hunger, which seems unending and corrosive. I don't move, and neither does he. The cock in his hand quivers with life and I feel like getting my share. His scent, his corrosive hunger floods me and draws me in.

I sink down next to him. Deep eyes burn the darkness. One of his hands snakes around my neck. He brings me close and licks the skin above my lips. Moist breath mixes with my own, and the feeling of suffocation is intoxicating. I open my mouth and I barely taste the slippery underside of his tongue before he pushes it violently through my teeth. Red flesh tears on one of my canines and the tang of blood wakes the power of the moon in me. I press my hand in his lap and push his fingers away from the pulsating flesh, and grab it myself. I start gently; I feel his quickening breathing against my chest. I tighten my grip around his cock; he moans.

Suddenly I'm torn away from the flesh. My back is thrown forcefully against the wall, our mixed breaths escape from my lungs. Teeth seek and lightly break the skin over my collarbone. I can taste my own blood. Sinewy arms tear me from the wall, against his thin frame, and quickly turn me around. I feel like I'm burning when I wait for him to fill his hunger. It's so deep...

Hands snake around my waist, to the buttons of my trousers; I didn't bother undressing earlier, I already felt the scent tickling my senses back then, and now I'm drowning in it. He tears the buttons open and breaths impatiently against my neck, pushing my trousers and boxers lower. They cling mid-thigh, exposing my buttocks and my front. My passion grows and bursts into flame, it's like a butterfly, born to die after a moment of flight. Now it's still flying...

He tears a moan from my lips. Another follows, and soon I can't count where they end, dying in the silent shadows. I only know that an eternity passes before his hot flesh presses against my buttocks. Fingers assist his entry. I can't even wait, or hope or pray before a rough pain slashes through me, just to linger behind my closed lids.

He moves fluently somewhere in the midst of pain, and slowly the hunger subsides. It doesn't go out, it smolders. Just to flare up again, I know. My tears seem brighter than ever before, they burn sweeter than they used to. Hunger slides from my own body into a puddle mixed with my broken psyche.

He leaves me to the room's shadows. There I'm found my James, beautiful, stupid James, who thinks he's helping by touching me in the first light of the dawn. He touches me with no hunger, and from his pity, agony builds new, more solid foundations. No-one will ever touch me like them. Maybe no-one will ever touch me.

Eyes, blinded by pain, are bright again in agony. The world is blood-red, my beloved black.

Severus POV

_I am Hungry._


End file.
